


Dragons

by Useful_Oxymoron



Category: Forgotten Realms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragon Bellatrix Black, Dragon Hermione Granger, Dragons, F/F, Lesbian Dragons, yes you read that correctly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useful_Oxymoron/pseuds/Useful_Oxymoron
Summary: Just a silly little DnD themed Bellamione thing. Two dragons meet as ships in the night.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 7
Kudos: 139





	Dragons

Bellatrix was having a rather strange day to say the least. The ancient black wyrm rose to all her four legs, rearing up slightly and spreading her wings to make her seem bigger than she was: she might be somewhat smaller than her black dragon kin also her age, but that was no reason to let anyone think she was weaker.

She laired in the ruins of an elven temple located in an area aptly named the 'Vast Swamp'. The ruins, partially flooded, were damp and cavernous, littered with pools of water and acid. Plenty of room for herself and her large hoard of gold and magic items. Surrounding her lovely lair were reeking pools of mud and thick and twisted vines. Honestly, she couldn't understand why anyone would call this paradise 'dismal'. Humans were strange, strange beings.

Still, she state of her paradise of a lair was not the reason why she was having a strange day. The reason for that was another dragon. A youngling whom had just wandered into her lair with an air of arrogance as if she owned the place. She lingered near the ruined entrance of the elven temple, looking up at her and staring her down, while at the same time keeping near enough to the doorway to be able to make a quick exit if things went sour.

She was smart as well: evading just about every single one of Bellatrix's traps and even managing to catch her off guard by entering her lair undetected.

The young dragon was only the size of a horse, however, probably having been pushed out of the nest by her mother a bit earlier than was common. She would stand no chance against Bellatrix if it would come to a fight. Curious. If she was smart enough to evade all her traps, she'd be smart enough to know this.

“Why are you here?!” Bellatrix's booming voice echoed through her lair, causing the youngling to shiver a little. “If you think you can help yourself to my hoard...”

“Advice,” the young dragon spoke, with a voice which almost sounded timid compared to hers. Four clawed feet dug into the mud as the youngling folded her wings to her back. “Apprenticeship.”

Bellatrix snorted. It was not unusual for youngling such as herself to seek advice from older dragons and it was an unwritten rule among her kind that help was to be given. Being the ancient and successful dragon that she was, Bellatrix had received many such visitors over the years. Most of them were chromatics just like her, though she never turned down the occasional metallic visitor. She had once even mentored a silver.

But what was strange about this particular youngling, was that she was a red.

When the youngling had first walked into her lair, Bellatrix thought that her eyes had deceived her: she was getting on in centuries, after all, and her eyesight wasn't what it it used to be. But there she strood. A young red wyrmling. Asking for an apprenticeship.

Reds were arrogant, prideful creatures. Young reds never asked for advice, not even among their own kind. Doing to would be to admit to imperfection, to fragility, to submit to another as authority. Asking for advice or help was anathema for a red.

And yet, here she was. Staring up at her with an intensity in her golden eyes: she hadn't come here to ask for advice. She had come here to _demand_ it.

The light of the darkened sun reflecting off her large set of horns, she dared to take a step forward. “I want to have the largest hoard! I want to have the most desirable territory! I want to have the most fearsome reputation! I want to feast on the flesh of virgin sacrifices! I want all of Faerun to tremble at the mere mention of my name!”

Ah, there is was. The innate desire of any red dragon to be the best at everything.

Then, the young red lowered her head, craning her neck downward. If Bellatrix hadn't known any better, she'd have considered it to be sorrow which drove the youngling to do so.

“I... I just don't know where or how to start,” the young red admitted.

A prideful creature whom had swallowed her pride to find a way to achieve her ultimate goal of becoming the most fearsome dragon in the Realms. She was indeed smarter than most. And that unique cleverness should be rewarded.

The ancient black wyrm craned her long neck down. “What's your name, wyrmling?”

“Hermione,” the red replied.

“Well, Hermione,” the larger black dragon beckoned her to step forward. “Let's start off with lairing and hunting, hm?”

The young red's snout contorted in what some humans would consider a smile and she took a few careful steps into Bellatrix's lair.

* * *

Bellatrix was already aware that Hermione had landed near her lair. These days, Hermione had no more need to sneak around, nor could she even. The ground shook whenever she moved: Hermione had grown quite a bit larger over the centuries as she grew into a strong and fierce elder dragon. Stealth wasn't really in her repertoire anymore.

Bellatrix herself lay curled up in her lair, near her hoard. It wasn't as if she wasn't excited to see Hermione again: she was. It was just that she couldn't summon up the willpower to move.

Bellatrix had entered Twilight: the end of her life. Oh, it would take many centuries still for her to die, but many dragons slowly lost their power, their zest for life over this period. She barely craned her neck upwards to meet the red dragon, now larger than she was.

“I am passing through your lands and request safe harbour in your lair to rest,” said Hermione. “I swear to Tiamat that I shall not take what is yours while I am in your lands, for my soul will be damned forever if I do.”

“Pfft,” Bellatrix snorted. “I taught you that rite. And you know you can come in whenever you want to.”

Bellatrix craned her neck down, settling into a comfortable position once again. Sleep was mostly everything she did these days. Might as well have some companionship.

Hermione stepped forward, her bulk of a body shifting through the narrow pillars of the partially ruined temple with enough grace to miss every single one. She sought a dry spot and curled up on the elven tiling next to Bellatrix.

“Did that paladin find you yet?” Bellatrix asked.

“Hm?” Hermione thought a moment. “Oh, that guy!”

“I’ve heard of his boasting even here in my swamp,” said Bellatrix. “Was going to end your evil once and for all and such rot.”

“Oh, I met him. Name was Lockheart something. Bit of a fop. Armor made from the shiniest of mithril, though.. Spent an hour ranting at the mouth of my summer lair. Actual battle lasted less than ten seconds.”

“How was he?”

“Delicious,” replied Hermione. “Though I spent about a week coughing up bits of his armor. I think there’s still a gauntlet rattling around in there.”

Silence.

“You should get out more.”

“I like my swamp.”

“Seriously, if you stay active, you can stave off Twilight.”

“Nothing staves off Twilight,” Bellatrix replied gruffly.

Hermione fell silent, regret and melancholy clear on her draconic features.

Bellatrix mentored Hermione throughout her younger years. She had watched her claim a lair, by then a dingy cave at the foot of a volcano. She’d watch her grow her powerbase and start her hoard. Bellatrix had watched as Hermione had claimed her first treasure: just some armor and weapons with barely a magical spark in them, together with a few hundred gold from a group of adventurers she had defeated, but the then tiny dragon had been so proud.

As Hermione grew in size, strength and power, their relationship developed from teacher-student to friendship to… something more. There were days when they went to nearby towns and cities in their human forms and traveled among the cattle, mostly laughing while they observed those poor wretches as they lived their dismal little lives. They often ended up dallying in private in the suites of the more upscale inns.

She had made her feel like a youngling again. For however short it had lasted, she would forever be grateful for that.

Truth be told, she'd only done it for Hermione. Bellatrix never liked shifting into her human form: she could never quite get the hair right.

“You never stop by my lair anymore,” Hermione muttered.

“The dry air is bad for my lungs,” Bellatrix replied. “Makes it hard to breathe.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m old,” replied Bellatrix, indeed feeling the coldness within the depths of her bones. It was the answer to all of Hermione’s questions at once.

A large leathery wing folded out and covered her black hide like a blanket. Bellatrix snorted for a bit, bristling at this in her mind foolish gesture of pity. As was usual with Reds, however, their high body temperature, spread evenly throughout the wing, did much too soothe her cold and aching bones.

Prideful as she was, Bellatrix took the simple gift in the spirit of which it was given.

* * *

Hermione often visited Bellatrix in her lair as the centuries progressed, had covered her with her warm wings as if it was the coziest of blankets. But today was different. Bellatrix heard it in the way Hermione landed outside her lair today.

Angry.

Aggressive.

Hermione had grown to gargantuan size, much larger than many females of her own kin. Her muscular body barely fit inside the temple which was her lair and the now elder red dragon towered over her. The large red wore a snarl as fire spewed from her nostrils.

“You know why I'm here,” Hermione snarled, voice booming.

“So it has come to this,” said Bellatrix as she warily rose to her full height and spread her wings like the time she had done when the two of them had first me. “I WILL NOT BE AN EASY PREY!”

Pools of water and muck suddenly rose from the floor of her lair and splashed towards Hermione with tremendous speed, covering her with cold water and temporarily putting out the fires in her belly. Immediately, Bellatrix slammed into the confused red, causing the both of them to tumble through the entrance of the ruins like a gargantuan ball of scales, muscle and claws. Scratching and biting at each other, the two dragons both fought to be the first on steady ground. This time, Bellatrix's size was to her advantage as she got her footing first, opened her maw and released a torrent of acid onto Hermione.

The red howled as she quickly closed her eyes, the only truly vulnerable part of her body. Hermione felt the acid bite away at her scales and when she dared to open her eyes, she saw two massive claws barreling towards her. She howled when she turned her bulk to divert the blow from her head and the claws ripped open her side.

Bellatrix, however, was not nimble enough to avoid the massive swipe of Hermione's tail, slamming her back well over a hundred yards. The black dragon spread her wings and took flight, immediately tossing down another wave of acid on the still land-locked Hermione. With her scaly armor now breached, the acid bit at her exposed flesh.

Hermione let out an angry bellow and took to the skies as well, felling trees with a fierce gust of wind when her wings flapped.

The Devouring Flame was the name they had given her. Had a hand in every political intrigue this side of Cormyr. Feasted on the most succulent virgin sacrifices. Most feared dragon in all of the Realms. And now she had come for her.

Hermione opened her maw and out spewed a massive cone of flame. Normally, Bellatrix would not be fazed by this, but the hot air and had a nasty effect on her old lungs. The hot air surrounding her made it more difficult to breathe, putting her at a severe disadvantage.

She was impressed: Hermione had learned her lessons well.

The huge red's bulk didn't help her in the air, though, as Bellatrix was smaller and nimbler. She deftly avoided a second cone of fire, swooped over Hermione and dipped down, breathing more acid against Hermione's wounded side.

Unfortunately, the hot air was starting to take its toll. Harder to breathe, she was getting winded and was starting to lose her momentum. Too late was she to avoid a mid-air claw swipe after Hermione turned and slashed at her.

Pain exploded from the left side of her head: she had lost an eye.

Bellatrix yelped and found herself in a mid-air tumble as the two dragons collided again in a falling ball of claws, teeth and snarls.

A bite.

A snap.

And it was over.

Bellatrix barely felt herself plummeting into the ground, other than a great relief. Bellatrix felt no pain and she quickly realized why: Hermione had broken her neck. It would only be a matter of time now. The ground shook when Hermione touched down onto the ground and folded her wings to her back. Bellatrix had inflicted plenty of wounds on her during their fight: scars which Hermione would bear until the end of her days. Though she suspected the large red wouldn’t care much.

The larger dragon strode towards her with the grace of a cat and stood over her in such a way as to keep the sun out of her remaining eye. Bellatrix’s snout lay half buried in the soil, but she lacked the strength to raise it. “Thank you,” she spoke, weakness seeping into her voice. Twilight. Slowly withering away in old age. Power, grace, zest… all draining steadily until there was nothing left but weakness and frailty. That was no way for a proud, ancient black dragon to die.

“I hope,” said Bellatrix, her voice fading. “That when Twilight comes for you, you will have someone who will do for you what you have done for me today.”

Hermione craned her long neck down and slowly pressed her muzzle against that of the dying Bellatrix. “Walk with Tiamat,” she whispered. Still being nuzzled, Bellatrix felt her breathing slow and the light in her one remaining eye fade away. She did not fight it, but nobly accepted her fate: there was no shame in defeat by a superior foe and took solace in the fact that she had given it her all. She had been granted the gift of a glorious death.

Bards would spin tales of the epic fight between Bellatrix the Black-hearted and Hermione the Devouring Flame. Of how they fought for hours on end, their breath and spread wings blotting out the sun. They would write of the many villages being razed when Hermione vented her rage after the fight. They would write how Hermione would claim Bellatrix's hoard and her territory: Yet another one of the many powerful dragons The Devouring Flame would devour.

But if they had been there, they would have seen how Hermione would reverently fly Bellatrix's body back to the temple in the swamp she loved so much. She would not touch her mentor's hoard, but gently lay her on top of the pile of gold and then collapse the temple on top of her body, melting the fallen rubble with her breath to seal her in forever.

If they had been there, they would have witnessed one of the rarest sights in all of the Realms: a weeping red dragon.


End file.
